


A Turn Up For The Books: or, How Greg and Mycroft Took Advantage of Sherlock and John's Meddling

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blind Date, Choose Your Own Ending, Crack, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M, little bit of crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: In which John and Sherlock set up Greg and Mycroft with unexpected results…





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is a choose your own ending story.  
> ***I SUGGEST YOU READ THIS STORY SHOWING ONE CHAPTER AT A TIME OTHERWISE YOU RISK SPOILERS FOR SUBSEQUENT CHAPTERS***
> 
> Chapter 1 is the set up.  
> Chapters 2-5 are the alternative endings.  
> After the end of chapter 1, there will be links to each ending so you can choose how much Greg and Mycroft mess with Sherlock and John.  
> I hope you enjoy it; it was a lot of fun to write.

“Mycroft?”

“Gregory.”

They blinked at each other for a long moment.

“What are you doing here?” Greg asked hesitantly. “Sherlock told me he needed to see me here. Something to do with the Harrison case?”

Mycroft sighed with exasperation. “I believe you and I have been set up, for want of a better term.”

“What?”

“Set up, Gregory. Sherlock and John believe you and I are attracted to each other, and have orchestrated this meeting to encourage us to…act on the alleged attraction.”

“Right,” Greg said. He looked at Mycroft, who was wearing his ‘I have no opinion on this matter, I’m just the messenger’ expression.

“So you reckon they don’t know, then?”

“Know what, Gregory?” Mycroft sounded the epitome of innocence.

Greg sighed and decided to go with the shockingly obvious. “That you and I have been shagging like rabbits on every available surface for the past six months, Mycroft.”

Mycroft managed to display both an aloof reserve and noticeably pink cheeks. “I believe our subterfuge has been successful thus far,” he conceded finally.

Greg grinned at him. “So…what should we do about it?”

“Whatever we do, the security cameras will need…amending.”

“I’ll leave that to you. Any ideas?”

Mycroft’s expression was smug. “Several, my dear…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How evil a plan should Greg and Mycroft enact?  
> [Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124700/chapters/35069051) – pleading ignorance  
> [Medium-rare](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124700/chapters/35069111) – pretending disaster  
> [Well Done](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124700/chapters/35069129) – blatant enjoyment  
> [Charcoal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124700/chapters/35069168) – delayed impact


	2. Blue

“Sorry we couldn’t meet you at our flat last night,” John said. “Caught up at the morgue.”

“No problem,” Greg said. “Mycroft was there, he filled me in.”

“Did he?” John asked. The smirk was evident despite his attempts to hold it back.

“Yeah, thanks for the dinner. It was really good, you’ll have to give me the recipe.”

“Ah, so you had dinner together?” John asked. “Mrs. Hudson cooked, you’ll have to thank her.”

“Well, Mycroft didn’t really eat. I took the leftovers home, it was brilliant for lunch today.”

John blinked at him. “So you didn’t have dinner together.”

“Not really. I mean, I ate, Mycroft made snide comments about his brother then finally told me what I needed to know about the Harrison case.”

“Okay,” John said slowly. “Nothing else? No other conversation?”

Greg shrugged. “Not really. Oh, that reminds me, half your light bulbs are out, did you know? Sherlock again, I’m guessing?”

“Um, yeah,” John replied.

“Might want to fix those. Made things a bit weird, sitting there by candlelight.”

“Right,” John said.

He looked confused, Greg thought with satisfaction.

 

_Hook, line and sinker, Myc._

_See you tonight xx G_

_[7.42pm]_


	3. Medium-rare

“What the fuck, John?”

“Greg?”

“Who the hell else would be calling you this late on a Monday night? Where the hell were you two tonight?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, John Watson. Sherlock asked me to come over to talk about the Harrison case, and he wasn’t there! Instead I ended up sitting with his bloody brother for an hour waiting for you two to wander in!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Sherlock dragged me out to the morgue, I had no idea.”

“I tried calling you!”

“No reception in the morgue, you know that, mate.”

“Yeah, well, it was awkward as arse. Mycroft thought Sherlock wanted to talk to him too, so we sat there like a right pair for ages until he cracked it and left. I have a charming message for your wanker of a flatmate from him, by the way.”

“So you didn’t talk?”

“About what? We have nothing in common, John! He runs the sodding country and I chase after his brother, pretending I know what’s going on.”

“Well, you could have eaten, I know Mrs. Hudson had brought our tea up right before Sherlock dragged me out.”

“Oh, is that what all the romantic lighting is about? The candles didn’t make it half awkward too, thanks for that. And I was hardly going to eat your sodding dinner, John.”

“Christ, Greg, are you telling me you two didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“Talk. Eat together. Something.”

“Are you telling me this was a set up? Did you seriously set me up with Mycroft Holmes?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious he’s interested in you.”

“What the fuck are you basing that on?”

“Well, Sherlock says he is.”

“Yes, and when has Sherlock ever tried to embarrass his brother? Or me, for that matter?”

“Are you saying he’s wrong?”

“Based on last night, yeah. I’d say he’s bloody wrong!”

“Christ, Greg, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“Tell him to keep out of my life!”

“I thought you were interested in Mycroft, though…”

“Well yeah, I was, but it was pretty clear last night that he’s not interested, and now it’s too bloody awkward to bring it up again. Bloody Sherlock has bollocks’ed up any chance I had with his brother.”

“Fuck.”

“Damn right. Tell him not to call me, I’ll call him. Later.”

“Right. Sorry Greg.”


	4. Well Done

“…and there’s no way we can…” Sherlock stopped speaking and moving at the same time. John bumped into him, made a noise of irritation and stepped around Sherlock, who was surveying their flat in horror.

“What?” John asked. Things looked more or less the same as when they’d left them earlier that evening. A bit messier, perhaps, but nothing to stop dead in the middle of the doorway for.

“Sherlock, what is it?” John asked again.

“Greg and Mycroft were here,” Sherlock said, his voice forced and sounding like he might be sick at any moment.

“Yeah, we set them up, remember? That’s why we’ve been at the morgue,” John told him. “Hey, we should check the cameras!”

He started to move over to the bookcase but Sherlock stopped him. He pointed at the floor.

“Greg and Mycroft,” Sherlock said, forcing the words out, “had sex all over this room.”

“What?” John said. “No they didn’t!”

“Yes they did,” Sherlock said. His eyes were darting around, wide and close to panic. “There, and there, and…oh, God, my chair…DON’T TOUCH THAT, JOHN!”

John’s hand froze. “What?”

“We need to burn that. It’s been…defiled.”

“What, my jumper?”

Sherlock looked at John, eyes anguished. “I am certain, John.”

“No way,” John hesitated, but he didn’t touch the jumper. “I’m going to look at the video feed.”

“No, John! You’ll have to disinfect your brain!”

John rolled his eyes. “I’ll only look at a second. As soon as anyone gets naked I’ll shut it off.”

He opened his laptop, Sherlock pacing anxiously before him. The video feed took a second to load, but when it did, it was hardly what he expected.

Text appeared on the black screen.

JOHN AND SHERLOCK

“Sherlock, it’s addressed to both of us…”

“What?”

As soon as Sherlock appeared over John’s shoulder, the black screen vanished. It wasn’t a video, exactly; more of a collection of very short clips, edited together to change so fast it was mesmerising.

In ten seconds it was over, and John wondered if he genuinely could disinfect his brain.

Greg and Mycroft, shagging in every place Sherlock had mentioned. There were an impressive array of positions, incorporating the floor, Sherlock’s chair and John’s favourite jumper.

As they stared, transfixed in horror, more text appeared on the screen.

DON’T MEDDLE IN OUR LIVES AGAIN.

Sherlock and John’s phone both pinged at the same time.

Sherlock was still frozen in place.

John fumbled in his pocket for his.

 

Understood?

[received 9.57pm]

 

_Yeah. Sorry._

_You couldn’t think of a less graphic way of telling us?_

_[sent 9.58pm]_

 

Mycroft’s idea.

More about Sherlock than you, mate.

Sorry.

[received 10.00pm]

_No you’re not._

_[sent 10.02pm]_

 

No, I’m not.

Pint tomorrow?

[received 10.04pm]

_You’re buying, wanker._

_[sent 10.05pm]_

 

Fair call. See you at 6.

[received 10.07]

Mycroft says hi.

[received 10.08pm]

 

_Fuck off, Greg._

_[sent 10.09pm]_


	5. Charcoal

“Okay, we can eat and watch at the same time, then,” John said, eyes rolling. He moved into the kitchen to portion out their dinner as Sherlock stopped in the doorway, searching the sitting room for clues. There was no noise, and when John walked back in, dinner in hand and a beer tucked under his arm Sherlock was standing in the doorway, frowning to himself.

“I can’t tell anything,” Sherlock said. “I can’t even tell if they’ve been here.”

“Well they have, Mrs. Hudson said they were both up here for ages,” John said. Sherlock was still frowning at the room, muttering to himself. John placed Sherlock’s meal on his chair and sat in his own chair, beginning to eat without waiting for Sherlock. He wouldn’t start until he’d solved the mystery.

“We’ll have to watch the CCTV,” Sherlock said finally. He pulled his laptop off the desk and opened it, bringing up the evening’s video feed.

Before he could begin to watch, John carefully closed the laptop. “Food first,” he said.

When Sherlock pouted, John picked up the laptop, arching one eyebrow. He was pleased they could communicate so effectively now, and watched fondly as Sherlock slumped in his chair, eating the bare minimum of curry and rice before John wordlessly passed his laptop back.

He put his own dinner to the side, perching on the arm of Sherlock’s chair to watch over his shoulder.

“There they are,” John said, grinning to himself at Sherlock’s restrained huff of ‘obviously.’

They watched Greg and Mycroft talk briefly, standing in the middle of their sitting room. They shifted moving hesitantly closer as they spoke. Mycroft even smiled a little when Greg touched his arm. John could feel Sherlock practically vibrating with energy as he watched his plan play out.

Pride, John reflected later, comes inevitably before a fall.

Mycroft excused himself to the bathroom, and Greg wandered over to the bookshelf, wandering his finger along the spines of John’s books as he waited, casually moving out of view of the static camera.

When Mycroft returned completely naked, John spat beer across the room. Sherlock crowed with delight and attempted to stop himself seeing his brother’s nudity at the same time.

“Even Greg can’t ignore such a blatant display,” Sherlock said, forgetting to forget Greg’s name.

As it turned out, Greg had spent the moments in which the attention had been on Mycroft stripping off his own clothes.

Sherlock’s crowing stopped abruptly.

John was transfixed, like a civilian bystander at a car accident.

Locked in horror, they watched Greg go down on Mycroft, the back of his head visible, mercifully blocking the details of his technique. Mycroft seemed to be enjoying it, whatever he was doing.

John and Sherlock were frozen in place, at least until Greg bent Mycroft over Sherlock’s chair and started enthusiastically fucking him.

“Christ!” Sherlock shouted, jumping up, knocking John’s beer over and fumbling to tear off his own clothes in disgust. John was only half a second behind him, though he jumped more as a reaction to Sherlock’s sudden movement. His face was far more amused than Sherlock’s.

“Turn it off!” Sherlock barked, pulling off his shirt, dumping the fabric on the floor.

John paused it, then turned to Sherlock with a huge smirk on his face.

“Bit of a problem, there,” he said. “If you turn it off, you won’t know where else they’ve…celebrated their relationship.” He looked around consideringly. “Mycroft did a good job cleaning up, didn’t he?”

Sherlock stared in horror. “You watch it,” he said to John. His tone was more pleading than anything.

John snorted. “No way. Even if they did shag in my chair, I was in the bloody Army. Body fluids aren’t my favourite, but I’ll give everything a bit of a wipe down and it’ll be fine.”

Sherlock’s face was an agony of indecision.

“You could always call your brother and ask him,” John suggested. “Or…”

“Or?” Sherlock said hopefully.

“Or we can start negotiations.”

Sherlock looked resigned, and John continued to smirk. He knew he was going to win this one. Now what would Sherlock give to not have to watch that video…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully you found that a bit of fun. I know Greg and Mycroft did ;)


End file.
